


party for one

by dorsias (fangirlflair)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Always Female Sam Winchester, Female Sam Winchester, Gen, Pre-Season/Series 01, Pre-Series Sam Winchester, Pre-Stanford Era (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 06:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30017859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlflair/pseuds/dorsias
Summary: Sometimes she feels like Narcissus, like she could die here in front of her reflection and barely even notice.
Kudos: 2





	party for one

Sam sits atop the bathroom counter, staring intently at her reflection. The mirror is grimy and warped, but she takes stock anyway: two eyes (too dark), one nose (too sharp), a set of lips (too small). With her knees tucked under her chin, Sam scowls at the way her legs look, pockmarked with dark scars. Not from a face off with a monster, but from their past summer spent in the boonies of Georgia, mosquitoes attacking Sam’s legs with the same ferocity Dean and Dad have when they go after bad guys, leaving behind scabs and scars.

As much as she whines and yells about never having any personal space, she detests being left alone. It gives her too much time to do this. 

But Dad’s off on a hunt- has been for over a week now- and Dean’s with a date whose name Sam hasn’t bothered to remember, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have it within her to hate Dean’s new girl with her whole heart. 

Sam bets she’s pretty. Blonde too, probably, knowing her brother. Just the thought of it makes her retch.

She twirls a lock of her hair around her index finger, wanting it to curl prettily when she lets go, but she’s not surprised when it falls back into place, straight and lank as ever. With that failure behind her, she tilts her head in an attempt to get her hair to catch the bathroom’s flickering overhead light. She does this sometimes, wanting to see if a trick of the light can make her look as blonde as a beauty queen. It never does. 

Maybe she should bleach her hair. Or, she thinks as she glances over at a forgotten electric razor left on the counter, just shave her head entirely. She’s spent so much time fighting to keep her hair at least shoulder-length, but Sam could see herself buzzing off the hair she’s spent so long trying to cultivate. Either way, her dad would freak and demand to know _what have you done to yourself Samantha_ , and Sam delights at the thought. 

For all her time spent in front of a mirror carefully examining herself, she’d call herself vain if she was any other girl. But there’s truly nothing else to do. At least when Dean’s home, she can little sister bug him, follow him around in the way she was supposed to have grown out of years ago. She’s excellent at killing hours that way. 

She could go out for a walk, despite Dean and Dad’s warnings to never go anywhere without telling them first. If anything, she itches to defy them, wanting to prove that she can do something as simple as walk around the block without getting snatched up by some invisible evil. But, as much as she hates to admit when they’re right, she hates the feeling of eyes on her even more. She detests the way men have started to look at her, their gazes boring into her dry, still-growing skin, and she knows if she leaves the room, she’ll be faced with them and their hunger. 

So, Sam continues to be the only one allowed to stare at herself, huffing when she sees her father’s face looking back at her. She allows herself a moment to think about how she’s always hated that she takes more after John. She hates that she shares his dark hair and hazel eyes, while her brother is the one who gets to mirror the pretty woman Sam’s only ever seen in pictures. Not that anything in her life has ever been fair, but Sam really does think the biggest injustice is that even though she’s the only Winchester girl, she doesn’t even get to be blonde and pretty and soft just like Mary. Dean wastes his mom-given prettiness on vapid cheerleaders and diner waitresses. Sam doesn’t know what she would use prettiness for if she had it, but she knows for certain she’d use it better than Dean. 

Sometimes she feels like Narcissus, like she could die here in front of her reflection and barely even notice, Sam thinks to herself, idly braiding the same lock of hair that had failed her earlier. She sighs, and it sounds pathetic and small, even to her. But the soft sound in the empty bathroom manages to ring in her ears, and Sam returns to herself enough to realize that her butt has gone numb against the shitty, sticky formica of the motel bathroom counter. 

Sam looks herself over in the mirror once more as a parting gift, trying to imagine herself with lighter hair and greener eyes, before she turns away to hop off the counter, already trying to work out what she’ll say to Dean to sweet talk him into spending some of their quickly dwindling cash on dollar store box dye.


End file.
